


tales from lecter castle

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [16]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection, Post Season 3, happy marrieds in Lecter Castle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-06-13 04:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15356463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Collection of ficlets for Count and Countess Lecter.





	1. Handle with care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bedelia tends to Hannibal's cut.

“This is not necessary.”

Hannibal shifts restlessly in the chair, the tone of his voice conveying a boyish stubbornness. Bedelia presses her lips together, swallowing a sigh and focusing on the task at hand. One he does not make easy for her. She stands over him, cradling his head in her hand, her fingers carefully pressing a cleaning pad against his skin, removing the blood from his forehead.

Bedelia was sitting in the library, caught up in a book when a crashing sound followed by a muffled groan interrupted her concentration. She got up immediately and moved towards the source of the disturbance, only to find a fallen frame and shattered glass scattered on the floor of the hallway. And Hannibal with a stream of blood trailing down the side his face. Earlier that day, she advised him to wait for the housekeeping staff to put up the painting tomorrow, but he was adamant. And now it turned out she was right. The fact that it was her painting did not make the situation better.

“I am _fine_ , Bedelia,” Hannibal insists again. He would never push her hand away, but he shakes his head with persistence.

This time she lets a sigh slip pass her lips. She finished wiping the droplets of scarlet staining his cheek and is now focusing on cleaning the laceration, her touch steady and gentle.

Even if Hannibal seemed unconcerned, the sight of blood made her mind sharp, prepared to remedy the situation at once. Yet her heart began to beat rapidly in an unexpected worry. She would rather never need to patch him up again, even if this was just a minor accident.

Now she meets his eyes without a word and Hannibal stops fidgeting, reading her thoughts in the stern gaze. Bedelia finishes cleansing the cut, placing the used pads to the side, and examining the wound; luckily it is not deep, and there will be no need for stitches.

Having abandoned his previous objections, Hannibal now searches for other, more enjoyable ways to distract her. His hands rest on the small of her back and then shift down slowly, fondling her curves through the thin fabric of her dress. They then settle on her buttocks, encircling and applying just the right amount of pressure. He knows exactly how she wants to be touches.

As pleasurable as his caresses are, Bedelia does not let it disrupt her, applying antiseptic and covering the cut.

“All done,” she says as her fingers press the edge of the plaster and locks her eyes with his once more, gas flames burning steadily with a mix of annoyance and relief.

Hannibal’s hands fall back as he now watches her with attentiveness.

“Thank you,” he says solemnly and Bedelia smiles softly.

“It might be hard to believe, but I do not enjoy seeing you hurt,” she states curtly, but the smile still plays about her lips. Her fingers brush over his hair, readjusting his fringe and hiding the cut. Then she leans forward and presses a kiss on his forehead.

Hannibal smiles as well, his eyes twinkling happily, and his hands wrap around her waist as he leans his head against her breasts.

“What would I ever do without you?” he murmurs into her mounds.

“Not much,” she responds and lets her chin rest on the top of his head. She can feel Hannibal chuckling and his embrace tightens.

Bedelia’s heartbeat increases again, echoing against her rib cage, but this time there is no worry. There are only soothing waves of warm affection slowly filling her veins.


	2. Sleeping pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a headcanon: Hannibal wakes Bedelia up when he tries to pull her closer to him at night.

“We have talked about this, Hannibal,” Bedelia’s murmur is barely audible, but she is certain he has heard her.

She had not stirred when firm arms wrapped her in a familiar embrace but was roused when she felt being suddenly moved from her spot and from her dream in turn. Now suspended between the haze of sleep and the present moment, she is aware of gentle arms pulling her closer. The movement halts briefly when the words leave her mouth, but the arms continue to draw her in until she senses pleasant warmth radiating next to her. Bedelia groans with annoyance but turns towards its source nonetheless. In response, the arms adjust its hold around her. She opens one eye and meets Hannibal’s maroon eyes beaming at her brightly, even in the dark.

“You woke me up again,” she presses on, the reprimand in her voice diminished by her groggy state.

“I wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” he whispers solemnly.

Bedelia’s other eye opens slightly as she scrutinises his failed attempt of a sincere excuse.

“I was _comfortably asleep_ ,” she gives him another stern gaze before closing her eyes again and sinking into the pillow, “If you continue to wake me up, you will be sleeping alone.”

She can sense Hannibal carefully pondering his next words and despite her irritation, she lets her hand wonder to rest on his chest.

“I can’t fall asleep without you,” he states wholeheartedly after a moment and his hand gently brushes over hers.

“Then perhaps you should not have stayed up so late,” she retorts in a firmer voice, but still finds herself drawn by his presence and warmth she relishes so much.

Hannibal falls silent, not wanting to upset her further. Bedelia sighs and her head slowly moves from her pillow and rests on his chest, her arm reaching across his body.

“Stop smiling,” even without looking, she can sense him grinning widely as she nestles herself against him.

He knows better than to respond and merely tightens his embrace, enveloping her in snug comfort. The sleep takes over her once more and the last thing she remembers before drifting off is her own smile unfolding against his skin as she burrows herself in his arms. This is where she likes sleeping best, after all.


	3. Perfect shade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a headcanon: Hannibal designs their bed sheets based on what would look best wrapped around Bedelia.

She finds him at his desk, peering over bits of fabric laid out in front of him, explaining the small package that has arrived for him this morning. His fingers move between the samples; his attention focuses not so much on the material but on its shade as he lifts each of them up and inspects them in the afternoon light pouring from the tall windows. Different shades of white, mostly ivory, may appear the same to the unskilled eye, but Hannibal frowns at the minuscule distinctions between the pieces. Bedelia steps closer, leaning next to the desk, easily recognising the Italian cotton.

“I thought we had enough bed sheets,” she says as Hannibal abandons one fabric and picks up another. Their lined closet is beyond well stoked.

“They aren’t right,” he responds, frowning over the lace finish of a milky shaded fabric.

“They seem to fit well with the dark frame of the bed and white canopy.” Bedelia likes the opposition of dark and light in their bedroom, so very like its owners.

“Yes, but it is not the right shade,” Hannibal persists.

He finally looks up at her, cold blue of her eyes contrasting with the sultry gold of her hair shining in the sun spilling through the glass. The summer tan gave way to an autumn glow on her skin, warm and soft, with a slight tint of pink colouring her cheeks after hours spent horse riding. Hannibal studies the ting with care.

“They need to be perfect,” he proclaims, still staring at her, then discards most of the pieces, leaving only two. His eyes now flicker between the two, but he remains undecided.

Suddenly, his hand reaches out to touch Bedelia’s, fingers gently brushing over her palm in the usual loving caress. She smiles and lets him lift her hand, but her eyebrow lifts in a silent question as he takes one of the two bits of cotton sateen and wraps it around her wrist. His head tilts to the side as though he were examining an artwork composition. He smiles brightly, pleased with his choice, and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

“ _Perfect_.”

She chuckles but leans forward to return the caress and kisses his temple. His eyes now shine with anticipation and Bedelia knows he cannot wait to enfold her all in the lustrous sateen. And she eagerly looks forward to wrapping herself around him in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Count and Countess' sheets come from a shop in Florence, Frette, with ridiculously luxurious bed sheets/ covers and robes/ pyjamas that does bespoke pieces.


	4. Workout help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr ask: It's 10.30 am. What are Bedelia and Hannibal doing?

Hannibal wipes his face with a towel, taking a mental note to clean the stream of water he is leaving behind him as soon as he dries himself. The deluge has cut his run short; he does not mind the rain, but the heavy torrent reduced the visibility to none, forcing him to return early. Blinking the remaining drops off his eyelids, he makes his way towards to stairs (and a promising hot shower) when an unexpected view stops him in his tracks at once. He steps closer to the open doors of the grand room overlooking the garden to find Bedelia stretching on a yoga mat. Unexpected but a  _very pleasant_  view.

“You are back early,” Bedelia says, shifting her body from a high lunge pose to a warrior.

“The storm has finally broken,” Hannibal responds, not taking his eyes off her.

“I can see that,” Bedelia’s gaze moves to the drops still falling off his clothes and forming a tiny puddle around his feet.

“A fortunate event,” he grins, slowly taking in the view of her in leggings and fitted top.

“I thought I can use the time to exercise as well,” she says, arm reaching over as her back arches.

“Without me?” he pretends to be hurt, his stare lingers on the perfect line of her body.

“It is easier when you aren’t here,” she ignores his stare, shifting back in her pose.

“I could help you with the alignments,” he states factually, but his eyes indicate a different agenda. He starts walking towards her mat, but Bedelia’s hand reaches out and stops him in his tracks as she finishes her sequence by stepping into the front of the mat. She then turns with her hands on her hips to assess her husband’s state.

“You need a warm shower before you catch a cold,” she announces and steps off her mat to take her own towel.

“I might need some help with that,” he takes an advantage of his current look, attempting to look helpless as Bedelia walks over to wipe his face anew. 

She raises an eyebrow, but smiles nonetheless.

“Fine,” with a final stroke of her hand over his face, she leaves the room and Hannibal follows her without delay. 

His wife always knows what’s best for him after all.


	5. Spectacular view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr ask: It's 2 pm. What are Bedannibal doing?

The first snow of the season arrived unexpectedly early, covering the grounds in the peaceful shroud of white. Tucked in the warm walls of the castle, keeping the wind and cold away, Bedelia’s eyes scrutinise the newly arrived landscape, committing it to the canvas. The different shades of white slowly emerge from under her hand when an eager arm wraps itself around her waist.

“Beautiful,” Hannibal murmurs into her hair.

“It is quite spectacular. I will never tire of winter beauty here,” Bedelia responds.

“Neither will I,” the hold tightens, lips pressing against her hair line.

“I was talking about the landscape,” Bedelia put the brush down and shifts in his embrace to turn and look at him.

“Well, the colour palette matches,” Hannibal grins innocently, bringing the other arm to join the first around her back, palms slowly caressing its curve hidden under the soft cotton of the white shirt, his shirt.

“You were always a bit clumsy with your flattery,” she teases him, hand reaching out to stroke his hair.

“People found me utterly charming,” he responds with pretended hurt.

“Because they were easily deceived by you,” she counters, fingers moving to touch his face, “But not me.”

“Never,” he pulls her closer, “I had to work really hard to win your favour.”

“You were quite tenacious,” she smiles.

“Because you were worth it,” he declares solemnly.

“What was I worth?” she asks while her thumb tenderly caresses the scar on his cheek. Hannibal covers her hand with his, sealing the touch.

“Everything.”


	6. Secret sentiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during their first months in Lecter Castle.

“How long will you be gone?”

Bedelia’s hands reach out to fasten his bow tie, adjusting it placement with care, then slide down, resting on his chest.

“Only two days,” Hannibal’s hand covers hers reassuringly, eyes shifting to his overnight bag, all at ready on the chair.

It is not like him to travel without her, but the details of his trip to the capital have been kept to a bare minimum, indicating it will be a surprise for her.

“I promise to be at my best behaviour,” he states with all sincerity, his eyes gleaming playfully as he now looks at her, noticing her unease.

Bedelia tilts her head with pretended severity, but the hesitation lingers in her eyes.

“You are worried about being left alone,” he remarks immediately, his gaze now infused with worry, ready to put the journey on hold at the mere twist of her lips.

“No, of course not,” she presses her palms against his chest with reassurance, “You know I feel comfortable here.”

Bedelia and the castle have embraced each other with great joy; she feels like she has always belonged within these walls.

“What it is then?” his arm wraps around her waist and he pulls her closer.

She presses her lips together in hesitation; she does not want to admit it, even to herself, the sentiment still fresh in her heart. They have not spent a night apart since they boarded the plane to Argentina. After decades of always sleeping alone, she has seamlessly slipped into his arms, his chest replacing her pillow indefinitely. She has not considered how her body grew accustomed to the new-found comfort. Until presented with a possibility of a night alone. And now she does not want to sleep without the warmth of his body next to her.

While she remains stubbornly silent, embarrassed to admit to such weakness, Hannibal’s embrace tightens, his ear hovering over hers.

“I don’t like sleeping without you either,” he whispers, giving voice to her secret disquiet.

Bedelia keeps her head buried next to his cheek, hiding a blush rapidly blooming under her skin; he has read her emotions so easily. He presses a kiss on her temple as she gathers herself together and finally lifts her head to meet his heartfelt stare.

“I will make it up to you,” he presses on as she continues to say nothing, his gaze lowering in a promise of compliance of any and all of her desires.

Bedelia’s lips curl up in a shy smile. She could think of all the ways he can please her but the only thing on her mind is the feel of his arms around her as she falls asleep; the shift in her needs is novel but somehow exhilarating.

“Just come back as soon as you can,” she says quietly, returning to his embrace, soaking up his warmth and his scent.

“Always,” he affirms.

And she has absolutely no doubts that he will.


	7. Perfect Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my undying love for Bedelia and Hannibal's height difference.

A hand reaches over her shoulder, extending towards the highest shelf and retrieving a small bowl, then placing it next to the chopping board. Bedelia pauses, her knife suspended over the half-cut mango, and regards the offering with narrowing eyes.

“I thought you might need it,” Hannibal remains standing behind, far enough for her to have freedom of movement but close enough that his frame envelops her body, even without touching her.

It is the most pleasant sensation, but Bedelia does not allow herself to dwell on the fondness, feeling irked by his gesture.

“Yes, I will need it,” she returns to her task, the knife meeting the wood with more force that necessary, “But I could have gotten it myself.”

“Of course, I just wanted to help,” Hannibal does not seem to be discouraged by her tone, fingers brushing the length of her hair, “It appeared to be out of your immediate reach.”

“There is no need to be condescending,” Bedelia flips her wrist, moving the fabric of her silk robe away to prevent it from being stained by the juice dripping down the knife as she proceeds to slice chunks of melon. She does not appreciate being reminded of her height disadvantage.

“I would never,” Hannibal states solemnly, his hands resting on her shoulders, fingers gently tracing their line.

“Perhaps we should reconsider the placement of the cabinets,” Bedelia persists, not yet placated by his words and caresses.

“It looks like a right fit to me,” Hannibal comments, his hands falling away as she moves to put the fruit segments into the contentious bowl.

“Oh really?” she ripostes, wiping her hands clean.

Hannibal does not respond, his hands sneaking around her waist instead. He pulls her back gently until they are flushed together, her back against his chest, her head instinctively tucking under his chin. He holds her firmly in his embrace, humming contentedly next to her temple, another caress unfolding warmth under her skin.

“See, perfect fit,” he whispers into her hair.

Bedelia smiles, relaxing under his touch; she cannot argue with the truth. They really are.

**Author's Note:**

> For your daily dose of Count and Countess, find me at http://bedeliainwonderland.tumblr.com/.


End file.
